Monday, March 25, 2019
Weather understanding for attention paid
My favorite weather book nearly fifty years ago was Look at the Sky and Tell the Weather by Eric Sloane. When I saw The Weather Detective: Rediscovering Nature's Secret Signs by Peter Wohlleben, an author I've read before (The Inner Life of Animals, and The Hidden Life of Trees is on the agenda), I figured it might bring "naked eye" weather observation a bit more up to date. Eric Sloane is a hard act to follow, but Peter Wohlleben does a creditable job.
The author is a forest warden in Germany (the book was translated to English by Ruth A. Kemp). In such a trade, one must make the most of observations. Instruments are useful but don't replace our own senses. We come equipped with senses that can dig out a lot of information about, not just what the weather is now, but what it is likely to do soon.
He writes that the weather forecast on the radio or TV is pretty general, and to get the most out of our garden spaces, we need to know their microclimates. In the section on observing and measuring temperatures, for example, he points out that two plots sited just a few yards/meters from one another can have average temperatures in any season that differ by as much as ten degrees (that's °F, because the translator converted lots of units also). Of course, shade or its lack can have a big effect, but so can reflectors (nearby shrubs or walls) and screening plants that lift the wind.
He recommends getting to know the local plants, in addition to those you are trying to grow (flowers, vegetables, shrubs, whatever), many of which respond to temperature, brightness, humidity, etc. He tells of Linnaeus's "flower clock", with twelve segments containing plants with flowers that opened at each hour. It was insanely troublesome to keep maintained, because most plants bloom for a few weeks at most, so the gardeners had to rip out plants and set new ones every 2-4 weeks. That didn't last long!
There's a very useful chapter, "How to water properly", that describes what the layers in the soil beneath our garden or yard are likely to be, and why we need to water more deeply and less frequently, compared to the daily schedule many of us keep, particularly if we have a sprinkler system installed (much less common in Europe than America).
Here and there in the book climate change/global warming is mentioned. When he does get to discussing that matter, his approach is different from anything you'd read by an American author. No shrillness, no finger pointing. The current warming going on is a fact, so how will we cope with it, and how will we help plants and animals cope. Of course, most animals are mobile. Plants are not, but some can spread towards a better place surprisingly fast, by having seeds that travel or are carried by animals. For context, he discusses how living things adapted to a warming episode a few thousand years ago (more than two degrees warmer than now), to a similar but shorter one during the Middle Ages, and the "Little Ice Age" just 200-300 years ago.
So at this point, he is discussing more than just what the weather is, but how things react to it. "Invasive" plants and animals are non-native organisms that wind up in a place they did not originate, and do well there. About 1% of them do so well they suppress the thriving of other organisms, or destroy them. I think of Kudzu, the Japanese wild vine that is covering trees everywhere in the southern half of the eastern U.S. (from Texas west, it's too dry); or the Spotted Lantern Fly, a rather lovely insect that came from Asia recently, probably by accident, but is beginning to do great damage in the northeastern U.S.; and then there is the Starling, a European bird that I call a "weed bird", because in many parts of the U.S. most of the "blackbirds" you see, flying in large, coordinated swarms in season, will be starlings.
The closing sections are an invitation to experience the weather with all our senses, to get to know it, to remember what follows what, so we can know what to expect from what is happening right now, and what just happened earlier. Humans have the best general vision system of any mammal or bird. It's there for a reason. By comparison, we don't hear or detect smells nearly as well as other mammals, but those senses are still very useful. We can actually hear how strong the breeze is, when it is still high in the trees where we don't feel it.
It's a good book to use to help you get acquainted with weather and weather signs where you live, wherever you live. By the way, I got curious about the author's surname. "Wohlleben" means "healthy living", a fitting name for a nature warden!
P.S. I finished this book three days ago, but the review sat nearly finished while I tended to other pressing matters. I shifted the publication date/time.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Clear at dawn
We are far enough past the summer solstice that I sometimes get out before sunrise. Today I was out, under a half twilight, and at first saw a totally clear sky. I saw them frequently when I lived in the mountain west. I called certain days, "Couldn't find a cloud to save your life." I very rarely see such a day here.
As it happened, I was wrong. Once I got away from the house and could see the northeastern sky, there were perhaps a dozen small, scattered clouds. Oh, well.
A look at the tables at Weather Today gave me a little perspective. In this area there are nearly 100 sunny days yearly. I take that to mean with nearly no cloud cover, like this morning. We also get 41 inches (1.04 m) of precipitation in about 115 days. Interesting, I saw that Daytona Beach, FL gets 97 sunny days yearly, also has 115 rainy days yearly, but gets 48 inches of rain.
A few places are extreme in one way or another:
- Cold Bay, AK has the fewest sunny days, 10, but not a lot of precipitation, 36 inches (0.91 m), yet there are 228 rainy days yearly. I guess most of them are actually drizzly days.
- Hilo, HI has only 36 sunny days a year, but gets 129 inches (3.28 m) of rain in 278 rainy days. I've been told that the frequent, smallish rains are called "pineapple juice". They sure make the pineapples grow.
- Yuma, AZ has 242 sunny days yearly, the most in the U.S. In just 17 days with measurable precipitation, it gets no more than 3 inches (0.08 m) of rain. Most of that comes as one or two gully-washers.
South Dakota is called the "northern sunshine state". It is not as sunny as Arizona, but Rapid City does get 111 sunny days and only 96 rainy ones. Most of the other 158 days have few clouds and they cover less than half the sky. It only gets overcast when it is going to rain or snow in earnest. I really remember those fine, fall mornings, with a deep blue sky from horizon to horizon. This morning's sky, though marred by those few small clouds, was nice and blue but quite pale by comparison. Deeper blues will come by October, but nothing here in the Philadelphia area can compare to a clear day in Big Sky country, which covers a lot more ground than just Montana.
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
Chill is like vegetables
I don't like it, but it is better to have it. Cold weather. As I've gotten older, I have found I have less tolerance for the cold. But I am glad to live somewhere that has a real winter, nearly every year. Over all, it is healthier.
Firstly, it stimulates me and my immune system. I find that I am more susceptible to colds in warm weather. Now that I am in my mid-sixties, I've probably had most of the cold viruses out there, both rhinovirus and adenovirus varieties, so I am immune to them. Yet I still catch a new cold every few years, and it seems to occur in the Spring or Fall.
Secondly, it eliminates pests. The worst years for mosquitoes are after mild winters. The overwintering adults can only hide under the bark or in leaf litter, so a deep enough chill will kill more of them. Any overwintering larvae (of certain varieties only) need pretty deep water to hide in, and if it freezes over wholly, they cannot breathe. The privet rust mites that plague my hedge plants hide under bark or leaf litter also. It can take a week of below 20°F weather to kill them. But I'll still spray with oil in May even if we get a hard few weeks.
Finally, the best fruit trees, apples, pears and cherries, bear better fruit after a long, hard winter, as long as the roots in the ground don't freeze. A deep-rooted apple tree can even do well after a North Dakota winter. The trick is to keep it alive for ten years until the roots get at least six feet deep! That takes a heavy layer of mulch, renewed every Spring and Fall. At this latitude, however, hardly any mulch is needed. We had a cold, snowy winter a year ago, and this year I had a very good harvest of excellent apples.
As much as I may grumble about cold weather, it is like having your vegetables, or getting exercise—better for me and better for my yard and garden.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Hurricane diary 6 - Aftermath
Everybody has been using the line "Goodnight, Irene" from a song nearly nobody alive has ever heard. I am not sure Leadbelly would be pleased.
While the mid-Atlantic region is filled mostly with a sense of relief (except for nine families that suffered fatalities - breathe a prayer for their comfort), New York and New England have huge numbers of power outages, and people facing a week or more without electricity. My son in New Jersey said there are three million without power, though most of them can expect to have it restored in the next two days. The only saving grace here is that the weather will remain temperate, so air conditioning isn't strictly needed.
I don't know what I would do if I had a week or two without electricity. I don't think I would stay elsewhere, because I'd want to be on hand to discourage looting. We would learn how to make the most of daylight hours, as our grandparents did, rising and retiring with the sun. While I have enough vacation time accrued to stay at home, not all of my colleagues are so fortunate. This really brings home how critically dependent we are on the electric grid for our well-being.
For most of us, all is well that ended well. Lend a hand to any neighbor for whom it didn't end as well.
Hurricane diary 5 - New England under the gun
This Intellicast radar map shows that this area is in a dry band behind the storm, which is, as of 8:00 AM, bearing down on New York City.
Upper New York state and southern New England are in the heavy rain. We were told on a newscast that, because Boston will be on the east side of the storm, it will get heavier winds than we got.
My concern is for NYC skyscrapers. The wind may be only 50+ mph (80+kph) at ground level, but it'll be twice that at the fortieth storey of tall buildings. I'll be interested to find out what the anemometer atop the Empire State Building records. I believe it is at the 102d floor.
Hurricane diary 4 - Rainy night
At midnight we turned in, hoping for the best. It was raining hard, and windy, but not a howling wind as I'd expected. I slept fitfully, so I was able to note that at 1:00, 2:30 and just before 4:00 AM the rain continued steady, and the wind the same, probably in the 35-40 mph range. Then I slept until 7:00, and at present there is no rain and very little wind. We didn't lose power, but the news station reports that about 140,000 lost power in SE Pennsylvania and 100,000 in Delaware. This is much better than we expected.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Hurricane diary 3 - Rain band 3
The radar at 11:40 PM shows that the third rain band has just passed, and a finger of dryer air has pushed into the region. Rainfall total is approaching four inches.
We are starting to get heavier winds, in the 30-40 range (50-65 kph), though these have died down just now. We still have power (so I have internet).
Hurricane diary 2 - Rain band 2
Rain Band 2 of Irene hit about 5:00 PM, and the rain just stopped about 7:00 PM.
On the advice of friends, we have filled the bathtub with cold water, so we'll have something to flush the toilet with in case power is lost long enough to shut down the water system.
Half an hour ago Mayor Nutter of Philadelphia finished a news conference announcing a state of emergency. Those still in any flood-prone area are strongly exhorted to leave NOW, and everyone else needs to stay indoors.
We live at an elevation above 250 feet, several miles from the nearest river. Hanging in there.
Hurricane diary 1 - Rain band 1
This crop from the Intellicast interactive radar image shows the situation just after the first rain band north of Hurricane Irene passed our area, which is just south of the P in Philadelphia. We had rain from about 2:00 until 3:30 PM.
A glance at the birdbath, which was emptied at Noon, shows a half inch. Its bowl is flat bottomed and the sides are straight, so that is a real half inch. Just a foretaste of what is to come.
The storm's eye is overland in easternmost North Carolina. Its closest approach to the Philadelphia area is expected about 3:00 AM tomorrow morning. If the rain signature of the storm remains the same, the hardest rain will have already fallen by then.
The worry will be the strong winds, with increased impact because of the rain they carry. We're expecting 50 mph (80 kph) steady, with gusts in the 60-70 (95-110) range. Our three big trees are all south of the house, and the winds will be out of the north and northwest, which makes me most concerned for my neighbors.
We have plenty of water and some imperishable foods, so we're ready for at least a couple days without power if it comes to that. We put one car in the garage and moved the other to the end of the driveway farthest from all trees. Tomorrow morning's church meetings are cancelled. Many of our congregants drive 20-40 minutes to get there, and driving might be rather hazardous if there is a lot of wind damage such as downed trees and power lines.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Lazybones day
Yesterday I took a day off from everything except reading. Reading is how I relax. I am in the middle of a great book about misuse of science, which will get reviewed here in another couple of days.
Early the last two mornings, when I went out to get the paper at the end of the driveway, the sky was clear like it seldom is in this region. The snow we had a day ago blew through and cleared the skies in a spectacular way. Prominent in the western sky I saw the Gemini, mainly the stars Castor and Pollux, but the dimmer stars that outline the Twins were also visible. This time of year in the evening sky one finds Orion due south, but by morning it has set. Then, high in the eastern sky Venus was like a headlamp in its "morning star" apparition.
Although I like living in this area (a suburb south of Philadelphia), the skies are typically not worth looking at. That's one thing I miss about living in the Dakotas, where we had great skies most nights of the year, and I didn't have to drive that far out of town to get rid of the sky glow from the city. When I retire I expect to visit places with dark skies, if not actually move to one of them. There is nothing like sitting up all night with a telescope and a good sky map.
Friday, November 26, 2010
The first cold evening
It snowed in the Philadelphia area on Thanksgiving day, but the cloudy night stayed above freezing. We've just had one dip to 30 degrees (-1C) so far this Fall.Tonight it is clear, with a forecast in the mid 20s (~-5C) in the suburbs, so we decided to bring the African violets from the sunroom into the kitchen for the night. This is an exercise we perform through the winter, as the sunroom warms up pretty well during even the coldest days. We take them out mornings, and bring them inside at nightfall.
This is our current violet collection. There are four varieties here; one is pink and the rest are variations on the traditional indigo color. It is nice that they usually bloom this time of year.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Still digging out
Today the company was still closed, which gave us time for more digging out. We also had a bit of leisure to look at the sights around our yard (that we could reach).
The front walk, with its enclosing walls of snow.
The trees behind the house, with sunlight glinting off the ice that forms as snow melts and refreezes on the twigs and branches.
Icicles nearly three feet (0.9 m) long by a patio door. After I took the picture, I broke them down so increased weight wouldn't damage the gutter or eave. I put the pieces in a couple buckets to melt into water for house plants.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Making a mountain
The official total in my yard is 21 inches (53 cm).I shoveled three times. First, beginning just about midnight this morning, when six inches (15 cm) had fallen. I didn't clear the area where the cars were parked. What I did do took 45 minutes. I slept well.
Just after arising, I began to shovel snow about 7am. Another 10" (25 cm) had fallen. The wind was blowing fiercely, and making drifts where I'd piled snow before. Even with my wife helping, we spent nearly two hours clearing the area I'd cleared the night before. Then we went in for a big breakfast.
After taking some ibuprofen, I turned in for some more sleep, and got about three hours! About 3pm we noticed the snow was slackening, and by 4pm it had stopped. I went back out and cleared the final five inches (13 cm) in about 45 minutes. Then we tackled the car park, which took us another two hours! The drifts, sweeping off the cars, carrying snow to increasingly remote places…by the time we were done, there was not just one big hill, but a ridge of six-foot (1.8 m) mini-mountains all along the driveway, and a couple more between the cars and the back fence.
Just before starting the 4pm shoveling session, I took this picture of the snow on our trash container in the back yard.In the past, I've used the bird bath as a snow gauge. It was so nearly totally buried, I figured this one is better this time.
After taking that picture, passing through the kitchen I took this one also. All the lower windows of the house have snow stuck in the screens.Although it looks like snow drifted up to the mid-window level, from outside it is actually seen to be a narrow pile on the window ledge. The weather bureau rates this the second largest snowfall on record for this area. The first was in the blizzard of 1996, which was just a few months after we moved here. I hope the record holds for a long, long time!
More ibuprofen, and more sleep, for me!
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Elbow deep yet again
If the weather reports are to be believed, this will be me tomorrow evening or the next morning. For the Philadelphia area and points south, "at least 12 inches…" The rest of the winter belt, and some places that see snow once a decade, have had their turn recently; now it is ours.I am getting too old for this. The year we moved here there was a nor-easter that dropped two+ feet overnight. I went out every couple hours and shoveled another 6-8 inches. But I was a mere child of 48 then. Got a few new creaky joints now.
Although its winters are twenty degrees colder than here, I liked South Dakota winters better. Yeah, we occasionally got a 6- to 10-inch snowfall in April or even November, but most winters it would snow about an inch, very powdery snow, and then blow it about for a couple of weeks before a short thaw made it vanish. Three of those was a winter, because at -10°F (-23°C) or colder it was too cold to snow much. Snow in the Dakotas is a sediment; you pack it down and drive or walk on it.
By contrast, my grade school years in Utah, when it snowed, we often got buried. Two feet was ordinary, and four not unusual. The storms were always windy, so drifts to the eaves were common. We didn't bother to roll up snowmen. We just picked a likely-sized drift and carved out a snowman - or a dinosaur.
We also tried out making rolling plows like this from boards and parts of old wagons. I can tell you with confidence, it is very tricky to plow with one of these. If you let the blade drag more than a tiny bit, it catches on a seam in the concrete, and you wind up doubled-up over the handle with the air knocked out of you (of course we ran; the less time spent plowing, the more time spent sledding. We lived alongside a hill).So for tomorrow's snowfall, I'm packing in the Advil and a tureen of hot cider.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Hail today

This isn't the biggest hail I've seen, but it is the first at this home. The biggest stone visible, the one on the step stone in the middle, is about half an inch, or 1.2 cm.
While the weather was nice all afternoon, after a calming rain in the morning, we heard there would be a thunderstorm about dinnertime. My wife and I had just finished some yard work when it got windy. It was about 6:30 pm. Gray clouds had been building only a short time when "bang! bang!", we began to hear hail hitting the Bilco door. It only lasted a few minutes, and all the stones were less than a centimeter. After a short pause, it started up, dropped a few hundred larger stones, and it was all over. This is the result.
I'm glad that's all there was. A couple decades ago, while living in South Dakota, we had hail as large as five inches (13 cm). We had to replace the roof, the cars were badly dented, and I got hit by a three-inch (7+ cm) ball that left quite a bruise. Small hail like this is almost a relief!
Monday, March 02, 2009
Noreaster update
I learned something. The panorama below is only 2/3 the size of the one from the prior post, because I didn't provide enough image overlap for the rightmost section, and the software refuses to use it. Oh, well.

The good news is, the snowfall totaled only five inches here, when we'd been prepared for about twice that much. As tired as I got shoveling what did come down, it was plenty! I'd had some idea of taking a photo about daybreak, when there was a predicted break in the action. But the snow stopped earlier, between 4:30 and 6:00AM, then restarted with lots of wind. I didn't dare to risk my camera in those conditions. The shots for the scene above were taken at 3:00PM. It was calm, just at the freezing mark, and the snow had stopped for about an hour.
This was only the second snowfall all winter, making it one of the milder winters we've experienced here. I'll take it. Spring starts officially in less than three weeks. Maybe, since March came in like a lion, it'll go out like a lamb.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
March 1 noreaster begins
When we first moved to the East Coast more than thirteen years ago, our first January experience was having a "noreaster" drop two feet of snow on us. I remember shoveling eight inches three times. That was one day that work was canceled, but I'd rather have worked!
About 7pm this evening, all along the mid-Atlantic area, a "noreaster" got rolling and the snow began falling. We've been told to expect up to eight inches total in this area, a few miles north of I-95. By 9pm I decided to chronicle things a bit, and went out to take a few pix by the light of the streetlights. I used a tripod and panned all around. Three of these were put together into the 180° panorama below (click on it for a bigger version).

I'll take another set in the morning. The storm is supposed to end before daybreak. Using the ISO 800 setting, I shot these at f/5.6 for five seconds each, using the 18mm extreme of my zoom lens.
I must say, I sure like Microsoft's Windows Live Photo Gallery. I've been wanting a simple panorama-making program for some time. I've tried to download the "stitcher" program that Canon distributes with its cameras, but couldn't get one that worked on my machine. WLPG has a good kernel, that figured out the three images I gave it and produced a good panorama. I have three more, for a full 360° panorama, but I haven't tried to throw all that at the program yet (I wonder what it does with the wrap-around). Later.
Now we'll see what the morning brings.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Snow day, sequel
The radio shows this morning are full of talk about the snowstorm yesterday morning. It seems the President's girls also had the day off, and people are echoing his "learn from Chicago" ribbing. I'd be tempted to join in, but really, this isn't New England. Washington, DC was built on a subtropical swamp. It is just far enough north that it gets at least some snow most winters.
I've been there a few times in winter, and the problem is just its mid-Atlantic location. It is cold enough to get snow, but not cold enough to keep snow in solid form. Snow in the mid-Atlantic region quickly turns to slush, which is much more treacherous. The icy rain that fell on yesterday's snow made it that much worse.
A couple hours north of DC, where I live, I could get around by taking it slow. I knew before I started that I'd be late at work, and decided that was OK. The troubles on the roads were caused by people's impatience. It seems the most impatient people have a blind spot about weather. They don't plan ahead so as to have extra time, so they get twice as impatient with the slower drivers (like me) who did. I'm glad I didn't get rear-ended, but then, I drove at a time with less traffic, on the better-kept roads.
A reminder to everyone driving a four-wheel-drive vehicle: it is easier to get into trouble, because you have a false sense of security. Every vehicle has four-wheel stopping, so you actually have no advantage, there.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Snow day
For the schoolkids in the area, today was a snow day. Only one or two companies called the day off, and a few others started late. The rest kept their usual schedules. People in this area mostly seem to do OK, but some need to learn how to drive on snow or ice.
In 1978 I moved from California to South Dakota, where I lived eight years. There, snow is treated as a sediment, like a slightly evil form of sand. Most places, the road surface is left a bit knobbly, and the snow bonds to it when it is warmer (above 0°F), and just loosely packs into the crevices when it is cold. When it is -20°F (-29°C) or colder, it is too cold to snow much, so the typical blizzard will blow in with a half inch (about a cm) of powder, which will blow from here to there until the next thaw.
When I moved to Oklahoma, I soon became the designated winter driver in my carpool. Now, in the Delaware Valley, I don't carpool, or I'd probably also be the main winter driver. There is something to be said for having this attitude: snow is something you pack down and drive on.
Now, Ice is another matter. I've had one auto accident since my teen years, and it was caused by ice. This morning's ice is a good deal more risky than the snow, but fortunately, the main roads I drive on to get to work are all free of ice. They had enough traffic during the overnight storm to keep them from icing up badly. My main problem was keeping fresh ice from forming on my windshield. It sure is nice living only three miles from work. I could just poke along without making myself too late. This hasn't been bad for the first real winter storm of the season.
Monday, November 06, 2006
The Weather: 56; Human Race: 0
kw: book reviews, nonfiction, weather, climatology, history, world events
A kiloton of TNT, the basic unit of nuclear explosion energy, is just over a million kilowatt-hours (1.16x106 KWH). The Megaton, about the energy of the smallest thermonuclear bomb, is a thousand kilotons, or about a billion KWH. These factors allow us to compare large amounts of solar and wind energy with the largest energies we are capable of directly wielding.
The atmosphere weighs about 11.6 quintillion pounds, or 5¼ quintillion kg. This mass is kept in motion by a small amount of the solar energy that strikes Earth, at a speed that averages a few meters per second. The earth intercepts 172 trillion KW of solar energy, mostly in the tropics and subtropics. Some fraction of this drives the atmosphere, and a (very roughly) similar fraction evaporates water from the oceans into the air. Condensation of water back out of the air drives those focused thermal energy systems we call storms, from summer showers to tornadoes and hurricanes.
Water vapor condensing to rainfall in a category 1 hurricane releases heat energy of about 14 trillion KWH per day. Divide that by the billion or so KWH in a kiloton bomb, and we see the energy equivalent of thousands of H-bombs, daily, in an "ordinary" hurricane. It took all the members of the Nuclear Club about sixty years to stockpile enough bombs to equal about two days' energy release by a "small" hurricane.
So where am I going with this? I just read Blame it on the Rain: How the Weather Has Changed History by Laura Lee. The book consists of 56 stories, in essay form, of the weather having a strong impact on human events. (Before I go further, I should mention that the stories we hear of a "nuclear winter" being caused by a nuclear war are overdone. We don't get a "hurricane winter" each time one of these storms roars through a tropical sea or pummells a coastline. Nor when a similarly-sized winter supercell (rarer, but just as energetic) covers the middle third of a continent and drops something like four feet of snow over a half million square miles. Such a supercell, a thousand miles wide, shut down all the airports from Oklahoma City to Chicago about thirty years ago...Winter ended on schedule anyway. And by the way, none of the numbers above are in the book. It's just my musings to get this essay rolling...)
One point of Ms Lee's book is that all human plans and powers need to take the powers of nature into account, or we are the losers. Among the essays are the four-part saga of various belligerent nations trying to defeat Russia, which is always well defended by "General January". Less well known is the spring mud that follows, the "rasputitsa". This "coroner" buries the dead the General kills...and most of the survivors as well.
Other stories include fog hiding armies, rain delaying battles until crucial reinforcements arrive, and winds helping or hindering, seemingly at random, our various schemes. One ill-timed wind gust ensured that the Wright brothers' first flight was not scooped by Langley. An extra-strong El Niño did away with Robert Scott in Antarctica, while aiding Amundsen's team to the first South Pole visit.
Mark Twain (or a co-author) wrote, "Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it." We're a long way from doing so. So-called "weather modification" is typically "weather irritation", and the storm in questions tends to act like a flea-bit dog and scratch back. In 1972, west of Rapid City, SD, a small airplane flew up the front of a gathering storm and "seeded" it with silver iodide. This storm stopped in its tracks, blasted through to the stratosphere, and dumped a foot of rain into Rapid Valley, just below a flood-control dam. A quarter of Rapid City was washed downstream. This isn't in the book, either; most of the stories are about political and military events.
So don't go around singing "Don't rain on my parade." The weather just might take you up on it.